Just Hold Me Now and Let It Be
by Tr3ble-Maker
Summary: One-shot. Eponine, Enjolras, and Marius have all survived the revolution, and invitations for Marius and Cosette's wedding have just arrived, leaving Eponine torn between accepting that she is only Marius's friend or clinging to those shreds of hope. Eponine x Enjolras


The creamy, embossed paper crumples in my hand, along with the last bit of my hope. If I had known that surviving would be this terrible, I would have gladly thrown myself in front of any gun at that barricade after they revived me that first time.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad if the others had lived. If anybody besides Marius and Enjolras had lived. I keep expecting to see Grantaire struggling through the streets with a bottle in one hand, or Joly with a medical school textbook, or Jehan writing a poem in the corner of a café. And Gavroche…tears press further at my eyes as I think of how he's gone. The one person on the planet that ever truly understood everything about me, gone forever. If there was a way to bring him back, I'd do it without question.

But this…this damned piece of paper, coupled with all of that…it's all I can do not to collapse. Luckily I decided to peek around in the mailbox today, otherwise it would have been intercepted by my parents. Surely, no comfort would come from them.

There's literally only one place I can think of going: Café Musain.

Possibly the worst place I can go, considering that seeing the empty chairs at empty tables would only tear at my heart even further, but it's also the only place I can go.

The streets of Paris zoom by in a blur. I could follow this street blindfolded in the dark, alone, and still get to my destination. It's a skill that comes in handy now, when I don't want anybody to see me, because I can just stare at my feet and pretend like nobody exists.

Sure enough, I reach the Café in no time, walking through the back route. I don't want to ever go by the front again. I don't want to see the blood they didn't wash away well, I don't want to see broken pieces of furniture lining the streets, I don't want to see guns or discarded jackets. This place will always be haunted by those boys who thought that Paris was coming to their side.

And Paris turned away.

The café has changed remarkably. Somebody smashed the windows open so that people could shoot out them, which only ended up making them be singled out as easy targets. There are almost no chairs left, seeing that most of them were piled onto the barricade. The tables, however, are completely gone, besides a broken plank of wood in the corner whose intricate engravings suggest that it was from the large table in the middle.

Sitting down in a chair, I let my tears finally fall. _I knew this would happen. I told myself this would happen, and it happened. I shouldn't be upset, or angry, or jealous, or sad. I shouldn't be anything._

I smooth out the thick paper on my lap, the kind of paper you only get to write on when you've got enough money to feed three families for a lifetime. There were golden designs around the edges as well, swirls and twirls that reflected the light in a sickeningly beautiful way. The worst, though, was the elegant writing.

**We would request your presence to attend as Marius Pontmercy and Cosette Fauchevelant join together in holy matrimony on…**

I don't want to know the date yet. I can't lie to Marius, and if I miss his wedding, I won't be lying when I say I didn't know what day it was. My tears have smudged some of the ink, and I take a small amount of pride in the fact that I've ruined the perfection of their precious invitation. Half of me wants to burn the stupid thing, and half of me wants to keep it in my hand for some unknown reason.

The sobs I've held up choke their way out into the open. _All of that talk of me feeling safe in his arms and being so close to him while I almost died, and he probably thought it was friendly. He cried because his FRIEND was dying._

"Because that's all I'll ever be, won't I?" I snap to myself, rubbing the tears away from my eyes. "I wasn't a street girl and I wasn't his love, I was just stuck in the middle. A friend."

"Eponine?" I hear from the corner, and I stand up quickly to face Enjolras.

"Oh. Hello, Monsieur…h-how are you?" I stutter, brushing the invitation behind my back and swiping at my eyes. Of course, this is pointless; who knows how long he's been there?

"Fine," he says, looking around the café. By the way he practically shudders at the sight of it, though, I can tell he's anything but fine. I hardly knew all of his friends, and it's still hit me hard. I can't imagine what he must be going through.

Silence rings out between us as I subtly survey him, looking at a bandage on his arm where I know he was shot. I don't know how he got out alive, but somehow he did. His blonde hair and face remain the same, as does his red jacket and his Friends of the ABC pin; however, I can tell that watching his friends die has scarred him on the inside. For a second, I think it would be better if Enjolras had died, if I had died, but then I remember how terribly lonely Marius would be.

And then I remember Cosette.

The tears threaten to spill over again, and Enjolras is in front of the only exit. "I'm sorry to bother you, Monsieur, but I really must be going," I whisper, hoping he doesn't notice the choked edge on my voice. My head stays down as I try to swerve around him, but suddenly I feel his strong grip on my arm. Normally, when a man grabs me, I automatically think of ways to escape, considering that the man is normally my father or one of his gang members. But this time, it feels different; like Enjolras wants to protect me rather than throw me into the face of danger.

"Eponine, are you alright?" he asks quietly.

They are literally the only words that can break me. I don't know Enjolras that well, but I accidentally let myself collapse into him, forgetting my scraps of pride, letting out everything I've felt since I saw the invitation without so much as a word. He doesn't say anything either, which is fine by me.

When he finally pulls away, I think that he's going to leave, but instead, he gestures to the corner for us to sit down on the floor. I remember that there are no more wholly intact chairs left, and sit next to him, leaning up against the wall.

"Now what happened?" Enjolras questions quietly.

I exhale lightly and bring the invitation out from behind my back, unfolding it, careful to keep my thumb over the date. "I got this out of my father's mailbox this morning. Marius and Cosette's…" I stop there, not wanting to admit that this is my new reality.

To my surprise, Enjolras reaches into his pocket and pulls out an identical one. Of course, it doesn't have as many folds in it like mine does (thanks to the bitter raging that consumed me for those few short minutes), but I recognize the paper immediately. "I got mine yesterday," he explains.

Of course. I should have known Enjolras would know about it. Even though Marius and Enjolras didn't agree on half of the things either of them said (I had actually decided that Enjolras was worth being better acquainted with by the way he immediately shot down Marius's feelings for Cosette), I believe they have a sort of unique friendship, especially now that they – we – are the only surviving ones to form friendships with.

I shrug, creasing the paper up again. "I just…"

"Thought he might still have a chance of loving you," Enjolras finishes. I look up in surprise, to which he laughs lightly. "You thought it was a secret? Eponine Thenardier, you can be read like an open book."

I curse the blush rising on my cheeks, considering how vulnerable I already feel. The last thing I need is to look the part of the trembling, helpless girl. If there's one thing I learned from the streets of Paris, it's that people prey on the weak, and if you look weak, you'll be beaten and battered until you can never be anything but weak.

I ball up the invitation and throw it across the café, not wanting to be so close to anything that gives Cosette such happiness, especially when it involves the one person that gave me happiness.

"I'm going to assume you don't want to go," Enjolras says, gesturing at where the invitation landed.

I tuck a tangled strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't know if I can handle it, honestly." Enjolras doesn't speak, so I explain further. "I love him. And I guess I was just clinging to the fact that he could love me someday. And the worst thing is that he could," I confess, taking a shuddery breath, "but he chose not to."

I feel the weight of Enjolras's arm slip around my shoulders, and I lean my head in to rest on his collarbone. "Why?" he whispers, barely audible.

"Sorry?"

"Why Marius?" He asks, and I can feel his muscles tense, although he doesn't let go of me. "Why did you keep putting yourself through seeing him with Cosette? Why did you block that bullet going towards him at the barricade?"

"To let him live," I spit out, bringing my head off his shoulder. He seems taken aback as I throw his arm off my shoulder and move away. "And look where that got me."

Enjolras seems to relent, but I can feel his eyes on my back. "So, you aren't going to go, then. To the wedding."

I lift my gaze back to his, accidentally catching his eyes again. I look away, not wanting to succumb myself to the comfort I see there. "I feel like I should. If he doesn't love me, then he at least sees me as a friend. And a friend would go to their friend's…wedding." I admit, hoping that he didn't notice my throat catching on the last word.

Enjolras looks around the café, even though there's nothing to see anymore. "Come with me," I think I hear him say, but it's barely a breath.

"What?"

"Come with me to Marius's wedding," he continues. I think it's a question, but it also sounds like a statement, so I don't form a response (what would I respond, anyways?). Seeing this, he sighs and gets up from the wall, walking to the center of the café. "Look, I'd rather not go either, but –"

"Why don't you want to?" I ask, standing up and walking to him. My disposition has fairly obvious reasons, but I don't know why Enjolras wouldn't go to his friend's wedding.

He stops moving immediately and stares at the floor, and I feel the wave of tension pass through the air. "Marius…wanted Courfeyrac to be his best man," he explains.

Oh. Of course, this makes sense, but it takes me aback that the "marble statue", as Grantaire says – said – had such emotional reasons as to not go. Here I was, upset that Marius was experiencing happiness without me, but Enjolras was actually broken over his friend's deaths.

Surprisingly, he gives me one of his rare smiles. "And two people who hate the very thought of going should of course sit with each other," he laughs.

I couldn't think of a worse place to laugh – the grave of the people who were our friends – but I do.

Enjolras glances at the door, where the sun is starting to set. "So will you? Go with me, I mean?"

Without knowing why, I smile back at him. "Yes."

"Wonderful," he says, and I can tell he means it, that this is no pity invite. "So I'll meet you at…?"

I suddenly rack my brain. I can't tell him to go to my parent's residence, seeing that I hardly go there, and the alleys that I sleep in, well, I prefer for people not to see me there. Not Enjolras, at least.

"Here?" I ask, gesturing to our surroundings.

He nods. "Right, then. See you tomorrow," he says, and starts for the way he came in.

All of a sudden, I don't want him to go any further from me, although I can't explain why. "Wait!" I gasp without thinking.

He turns around immediately, almost too fast, like he didn't want to leave either. "Yes?"

It suddenly occurs to me that I have nothing to say, and I stutter when I say, "Thank you."

He opens his mouth, then closes it like he wants to say something as well. _We're really very similar, then, _I think. "You're welcome," he finishes, however, I can feel an abyss of words we can't say between us. Of course, I have no idea what the words are, but I can feel their presence as much as I can feel his.

I can also feel that he can feel it as well.

We lock eyes for only a second, but warmth rushes over me as it happens, and then he is gone. It takes less than a second, but stretches out over an eternity. Once he is out of sight, I look at the battered invitation in the corner. It looks different over there, less fancy, less imposing. Possibly even happy, or brighter. Of course, it might just be a trick of the light, because even the café looks more beautiful.

_I bet that the wedding will be beautiful too,_ I think, strolling out. _Maybe even more beautiful._

**(I really had no idea how to end this.) This is a one-shot, but review if you liked it! Also, if you like Les Mis, read my story That Little Fall of Rain (Eponine x Marius). I'll do an Eponine/Enjolras full fanfic in the future once I get a good idea, but for now, thanks for reading!**


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